


Hourglass

by surrexi



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/M, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 14:25:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrexi/pseuds/surrexi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know how sand in an hourglass seems to flow faster as the amount in the top half decreases? That’s what my life feels like." (10.5-POV post-Journey's End)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hourglass

**Author's Note:**

> Scribbled in a notebook on my lunch break thanks to a prompt from [The Writer's Book of Matches](http://www.freshboiledpeanuts.com/writersbookofmatches.html); unbetaed, so any mistakes are my own. Originally written in 2008 and posted to LJ and Teaspoon.

You know how sand in an hourglass seems to flow faster as the amount in the top half decreases? That’s what my life feels like.

Time used to stretch out before me, an endless vista of possibility, an open book whose pages were mine to turn. Or to burn. Each second was miniscule as an atom and as vast as the skies, and I could feel each and every one as it passed.

Somewhere, across two universes, Time still stretches across the stars.

The part of me who is still a lord of Time travels on in lonely eternity whilst I stay on what he once called the slow path. Each day, each hour, each _second_ passes faster and faster than the last, and I can feel it, I _know_.

I don’t envy him.

My time will end without beginning again in a flash of golden light. The minutes will continue to fly by faster and I’ll hold on tighter, I’ll let go easier. My hair will turn grey, I’ll have to stop running, and my hands will turn into an old man’s hands. But I won’t regret a single fleeting moment.

She’ll be there. And that’s everything.


End file.
